


He is Too Opportunistic

by bigsoup



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining, Sherlock is an idiot, reader does NOT like him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsoup/pseuds/bigsoup
Summary: Sherlock takes part in another silly event but your distrust for him keeps him from obtaining his objectiveI started this MONTHS ago and barely brushed it up but heres to hoping its understandable
Relationships: Fujimaru Ritsuka/Sherlock Holmes | Ruler, Sherlock Holmes | Ruler/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. He Ventures

Another floor and you weren’t feeling at all inebriated but you were for sure humored. Watching your precious Shrine Ninja drag away your flailing emo snake to a hot spring with all the intentions of a middle school bff sleepover, was enough to make you sporadically giggle for the rest of the month. You and your party- reduced now temporarily to two- trek up the stairs and round the corner. The sight that you behold is a disgusting one.

“Isn’t that…” Setsubun General asks with eyebrows raised.

“It can’t be-” Mash adds in with a gasp.

“Looks like he beat us to it.” Da Vinci tones cheerfully.

“I’m literally so fucking mad right now.” You said in complete seriousness, not that Tomoe or Mash took it that way.

It was the man himself, Sherlock Holmes. You are hesitant to call him an ally, his assistance is coincidental beyond universal humor. Convenience and unexplained odds are a daily occurence in your life now, you are used to the outrageous and the impossible. But everything this ruler did was planned and precise, nothing was accidental but made to look immaculately so. Da Vinci knew this as well, she had many times offered you comfort of his intentions and accompanied you to meetings so you wouldn’t be alone. Despite her rationality and the trust you had in her, he still unnerved you.

Moments like these, idelic strolls through inane situations wherein your servants- friends and sometimes foes- gather for relaxation and fun, are sacred to you. They hold a dear place in your heart, even when the universe is crumbling and life is slipping like sand through your fingers as you face loneliness and guilt until death. When he interrupts these moments they serve to remind you of his cunning and his puppeteering, that you are merely one little piece on the chess board being made to move by another's hand. It scared you, it scared you so much. But more importantly it was enraging. How dare he taint whatever kind and soft memories you have left?

“What the fuck are you doing here, Holmes?” You spat out before anyone else could question him. The hostility rolling off of you was out of place for the situation, leaving everyone except for Sherlock himself shifting in discomfort. He met your glare and took an absent minded puff from his tobacco pipe.

“I suppose I’m here to give you two different answers, neither of which actually address your question.” He seems far too relaxed but you swallow down your annoyance. While he maintains a calm demeanor he himself is currently bearing the weight of unexpected stress. Whilst Sherlock was well aware of your (hatred) unease towards him, this was an unexpected response. During fun little events and celebrations like this, you are happy and joyful. Evil servants that participate are let off without even a slap on the wrist, Da Vinci herself has derailed work and production for her own selfish reasons, chaos and hilarity has never made you anything more than bemused or annoyed.   
He hypothesized that at worst you would be frustrated with him and shake him off, maybe scold him. Sherlock witnessed your endless patience and forgiveness when dealing with Elizabeth Bathory, Nero, and other similarly troublesome servants. It concerned him in a way that he hadn't been concerned in a while, to see you so spiteful of his mere presence.

“Wha-” General Setsubun starts but you pat her arm.

“Don’t even humor him.” You state in the best monotone you can. In Chaldea, Mash relaxes while Da Vinci rubs her temples. It didn’t take a genius to see you were still livid but it seemed that Mash nor the General possessed the human observation skill at any rank. 

“I’m sure you are wondering why I am here. I can offer you two answers, neither of which would answer your question.” He presses on, aware that you are looking out the window with a firm neutral expression masking your anger and unease. Tomoe immediately leans into his words, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry Mr. Holmes I’m not too good with riddles...theres a reason I don’t play puzzle games.” She frowns a bit at that, Sherlock watches as your gaze flits to her face and softens. He understands that you are closer to Tomoe, she was a servant you had heard of since Babylonia and even fought before knowing her face. You respected her before you met her, and when you finally did she was a twisted shell taken advantage of. The feelings of protectiveness that you felt for her were entirely foreseen but it didn't lessen his own feelings anymore.

“Entirely good Mrs. Gozen, keeping that in mind all I can tell you is that I am here because an opportunity opened and my own nature tied my hands in resisting.” He gives your party a flashy mischievous smile.

“That’s only one thing.” Tomoe says sadly.

“You were bored and didn’t want to work so you came here to entertain yourself.” You conclude with a frown. It wasn’t a bad guess, in fact were it anyone other than you, it would be the truth. But it was You and You enjoyed these antics. This wasn’t an attempt to get away from work (although he certainly didn’t mind that consequence) it was an opportunity to finally get closer to you. 

“Your words wound my, my dear. I was simply offered a favorite Château Lafite and couldn’t refuse.” He kept his tone light and joking, other servants had joined into this battle festival for less reason and you had giggled lightly in response.

“So you’re here because you were bribed with wine?” Da Vinci fills in, trying to create a humorous gap to aid him. She naturally understood what he was doing and while she didn’t appreciate him leaving his post and responsibilities to chase after you, the kind artist inside of her couldn’t condemn it. Vying for your affections in such shakespearean romcom fashion was appealing to the romanticist inside of her.

“Precisely!” Sherlock grinned. Tomoe let out a guaff and you narrowed your eyes. Mash was blanching while Da Vinci smiled a touch sadly. Ah, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Wha- WHAT!? The great Sherlock Holmes….bribed by wine….” Mash was beyond upset to see her idol so petty and materialistic. Through the blue projection everyone watched her clutch her chest as if clutching pearls. You are snapped from your emotionless stupor when Da Vinci cheerfully calls out your name.

“Yes, Leo?” It was a soft nickname that you seldom used with her, it tended to slip out in public only when you were in desperate need of some sympathy. Such as Nobu invasions or summer. Its a small slip that goes barely noticed by Tomoe, who blinks and then immediately shrugs it off. Mash doesn’t seem to be hearing you anymore. Sherlock and Da Vinci are the only two consciously aware of what you’ve just said. 

It makes his chest tighten, how often had he reassured you that his first name was fine? Not even Romani had called Da Vinci by her first name. Why is it that you were so comfortable with that, so effortless and so sweet, and that this was a kindness he could not convince you to give him? He vaguely wondered if he should make a rule of it to never respond to you unless you use his first name but that was quickly dismissed. You never called for him anyway.

“Please dispose of that trash properly.” Da Vinci chimed cheerfully. A smile came to your lips and you gave the slightest little roll of your eyes. Oh how you endeared yourself to him, so quick to lighten and so easy to amuse.

“Understood.” You chirp.

“With pleasure.” Tomoe’s frown becomes a smile as she grips her bow. Sherlock sees a tough fight against him, you are after all a wonderful strategist. He can’t help the excitement. Through the screen Da Vinci watches the fight unfold and with pity notices that it is only in battle that you can meet his eyes without scowling.

You had known him for over a year. He helped you in London and met you in Camelot, he was guiding you to truth and to power. In Shinjuku he gave you his full true name and later accompanied you to Chaldea, having proven himself a reliable and trustworthy ally. But you were the only person along with Moriarty, his literal arch nemesis, who didn’t like him.   
Even then, Moriarty had a hatred grounded in a history of strife and a respect for Sherlock. You were fearful and reproachful, never being in the same room with him and never turning your back on him while you willingly skip ahead of Berserkers who threaten to stab you in the back.

“What can I do?” Her question hangs in the air while he rests his head in his hands. Da Vinci looks at him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” She confessed in a low voice. Never had she seen you so uncomfortable around someone, even with servants like Blackbeard who you despised. Your passionate fits of justice that aimed at people like Kiara and even Goetia were cooled down by your empathy.

The few times Da Vinci had tried to coax an answer from you ended leaving her more confused than before. “I don’t think I even want to trust him because as soon as I do, he will betray it.” You had said cryptically. Da Vinci and yourself were no strangers to betrayal, in fact you often predicted it with a wry smile days before it would happen.

“She is afraid of me.” Holmes concluded with gritted teeth. How vexing it is that the one person who he wants to grow close to, fears him with inexplicable reason.

“She is.” Da Vinci doesn’t know what else she can say. Without wanting to, she feels her own doubt and reproachfulness creep in. For someone who accepts all manner of monster with an open heart, what would Holmes possess to make you so distant and suspicious? She trusted your perceptions, your intuition with people surpassed even Mages with clairvoyance. But you are still human and you make errors.

He sighs and leans back into the chair, his head thrown back so he can look at the ceiling. Da Vinci removes her hand and turns back to her own work, studying various times in history to look for the beginnings of any singularities.

“What can I do…” He mumbles to himself while an unexpected heat pools behind his eyes. He had taken everything into account, hell he even was so absorbed in the planning and details that he WROTE IT DOWN. But you hated him. Why? What did he do? What can he do to make you see he means no harm? What more can he do to make himself approachable and allied?

As soon as that thought comes he quietly stands and leaves the room. Da Vinci begins to protest but seeing that he wasn’t going to listen to her sighs and turns back to her work.

How terrible. No wonder you were afraid of him. All this time all he had been doing was trying to manipulate you to earn your affections. He didn’t deserve them. Your lack of trust was justified. Nothing he had done to or for you had been worthy of thanks.

Of course you saw him as deceptive, you are the only one to see him for what he really is in the first place.

How noble you were, to see through his nature before even he had. How admirable that you held onto a rational fear while everyone around you expressed that you shouldn’t. His chest ached. He didn’t know what he could do to fix this. 

Fixed or not he had other obligations to attend to, namely properly apologizing to you. Sherlock materializes in inky blackness in his office, miles below the surface of Chaldea in buried ruins of what the facility had been before your repaired humanity.


	2. A Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pining is not his strongest suit

“May I come in?” Sherlock held his breath waiting for your response. You don’t bother repressing your sigh, a faint sound of exhaustion and dread that he could hear through your steel door. Or, he imagined he could hear it. After hearing it so many times in passing Holmes knew the exact nuances of your sounds of discontent.

“Sure.” You answer and he walks in before his pining heart has the chance to hesitate. The door automatically shuts behind him and Holmes takes in the sight of you. You are the most casual he has ever seen you, and flustered from his sudden and unexpected intrusion. Sherlock kept his distance from you, aware of your discomfort. This is the first time he had stepped into your room and you are obviously trying to switch your brain from relaxed to on guard and defensive.

“Do you need help with something or…” You began hesitantly and trail off with a suspicious glance to the closed door.

“I came to apologize, may I?” Sherlock kept diplomatic for now, gesturing to the desk chair that had clothes thrown onto it. You hide your anxiety very well, he isn’t surprised given how much practice you’ve had. You nod and he settles in, looking at you from under his lashes. Your hair is wet from a shower and your pj t-shirt (no doubt stolen from someone else) rides up to show the tender skin of your hip.

“What for?” You are genuinely surprised by his offer of apologizing, Sherlock knows that it’s because you never expected him to do so.

“I have been purposefully manipulating you. Which has been...tasteless to put it mildly.” He actually looks away in shame when he says this. You watch in fascination as the grown man nervously laces his fingers together atop his lap. You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by a knocking at the door.

“Senp-” Mash spoke softly while the metal door began to slide open. You fling yourself across the bed and slam your hand on the button to close it.

“Sorry Mash! I’m naked!” You and Holmes hear her squeak in nervousness and conclude that she won’t be opening the door without hearing your response for a very long time.

“S-sorry Senpai! I just wanted to let you know, movie night started.” Her high pitched voice becomes distant as she backs away from the door and finally her heavy panicked footsteps retreat entirely.  
Holmes looks at you with surprise. He had expected you would hear him out but he choose this time specifically so Mash would interrupt and you would be given an out or at least someone comforting to bear with you for this conversation.

Once someone’s guard is lowered they are more likely to be hit by the following attacks. Even if they are aware of their halved defenses.

This rule applied to Sherlock as well, surprise made him distracted and what came was a direct attack on his heart. 

Hair tickling your ears and exposed skin of your neck, body moving with a learned grace and fluidity under a deceiving t-shirt. You looked at him with a clear and wanting gaze, prying and unrestrained curiosity.

“Nothing good comes of you.” Cruel words couldn’t have been said by a sweeter voice. Some people would have been hurt to hear this. Normally, Sherlock would have been indifferent and discarded the comment as easily as breathing. But while with you, Sherlock was anything but a normal person or his normal self. Servants didn’t have hearts but when you said that he swore that his was beating so loud you could hear it. While he wants to smile, he doesn’t. It would make you irritable and you would leave the conversation- his company.

“That sounds like something Watson would say.” 

“I am not Watson.” You retort and sit back on your heels, looking at him. Not sneering, not grimacing or trying to discern his motives. Just looking. Holmes agrees with you, you are not Watson. His dear doctor companion was a connection to humanity, someone he held in esteem as the only person who understood him. Watson followed Holmes and endured his personality until he came to love it.

You weren’t a person to pull along with him on his journeys, you were a beacon of trouble. Someone to follow and to look to. You managed to be easy going enough to be around but serious about your work and interaction with the world. Ideals that matched his own. Despite this you worked to his inverse. While Watson was comforting and grounding, you were a world of light that should be fiction. Were you to someday become friends with him, Holmes would like to bask in that light by your side.

“Why do you even bother apologizing, Holmes?” Because there was nothing to gain, he merely pointed out the elephant in the room. Made significant circumstances that were irrelevant and wouldn’t come to importance for another 2 or 3 years. For all the time you are teased for being dense, you are one of the most perceptive people Sherlock has ever met.

“I felt...guilty.” He began carefully. This was dangerous, too much and you are disgusted and too little and you are suspicious. Your lips pursed. He had said too little. “I am a gentleman you know-” He begins with a mixture of offense and begging.

You scoff, the most adorable scrunch of your nose accompanying a nearly playful eyeroll. Another attack while his defenses are lowered, Sherlock worries that he is blushing.

“As I was saying-” He wishes he didn’t but the corner of his mouth quirks up all the same, a shy smirk that makes you drop into a scowl.”-I am a gentleman. I have a code of honor and ethics to uphold. But, how I’ve treated you violates this code. My scheming and my attempts to manipulate your opinion and thoughts about me have been underhanded.”

Oh. Oh he had just lost you. Probably because he lied to cover up his schoolboy crush, instead of just saying ‘because i wanted you to like me i acted like a meanie :(‘ he had to do some holier than thou fuckery. Your face said it all, incredulous and astounded because (as you so eloquently put it);

“You’re a fucking moron.”

Ah. There slips away his chance to appropriately make amends. Now you really didn’t believe him to be sorry.

This was a failure. Sherlock came here specifically to swallow his pride and properly apologize for trying to use and control you. To give you back the respect he denied you- the respect you deserved. But he hadn’t been able to convey any of this.

“Ah...I can’t blame you for saying that.” He awkwardly concluded and stood, fully aware that you intended to leave for the movie night anyway.

“I understand that you...have resentment towards what I tell you. It is only just. If you still have the grace in you to listen to one last thing I…” He trails off. So awkwardly. At a loss for words, tongue tied, throat closed, lungs collapsed.

What can he say? WHAT can he say? Nothing could display it. Nothing could convey the torn affection and desire for your praise and attention. The ache in his heart when you look at him with distrust and the willingness to save the world just so you can live in it.

You are standing now too, wrapping yourself in a plush blanket so you can join the servants and chaldea staff. Todays movie is The Shape of Water, you had the specific desire to watch your servants squirm during the fish sex scene.

In one clean stride Sherlock was standing next to you, just a few inches apart looking at you with a look of immense stress.

“Uh-” You start with a medium degree of alarm. No danger bells were going off in your head but instinct told you something incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing was about to happen.  
With a clenched jaw and completely stiff body, Sherlock Holmes wrapped his arms around your shoulders and bent his body against yours.

“UM” A baffled response, you tense in his…...embrace? Imagine walking into a room and the most uncomfortable chair in the house that you never sit on, comes alive and gives you the type of hug performed between step siblings who havent seen each other in a year. Feels like that. “Hooo…...Holmessss?” You strain out, not bothering to step out of his arms despite how easy it would be.

Suddenly he straightens and walks past you with a swish of his coat, opening your door. “Quite right, young master. Quite right. Then I will leave you to an enjoyable evening.” Standing in the doorway is Yan Qing, fist raised to knock on the now open door.

“Oh- Hey~ Holmes! Master, I finished the dumplings. Time to join us and eat.” Yan Qing is cheerful. Holmes steps aside and the assassin bounds over to you, picking you up in one arm and throwing you over his shoulder like potatoes. Both he and Holmes step out of your bedroom, the door closes.

“Shrimp dumplings, Yan Qing? Would you mind if I took two?” He questions pleasantly, body completely at ease unlike it had been when he touched you.

“Nah, Master always says they’re going to eat 10 but then they always eat like 30. So probably won’t be any left, sorry detective.” Yan Qing is smirking teasingly and pokes your hip. He doesn’t flinch when your leg lifts in the air and you drive your knee into his chest. “Are you going to join us for once?”

“I think not, perhaps if you play a suitable mystery.” He smiles and Yan Qing laughs.

“Eh? Like a mystery you can’t solve? Guess you’ll never join us. Well the porn scene is coming up, let’s go Master.”

He turns on his heel and bounds off, with his talent and physique you barely bounce on his shoulder. You watch Holmes, who also turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction. He becomes a lonesome shadow in the hallway. He doesn’t look back at you.

Ah. This really was a failure. He certainly hopes Da Vinci won’t catch on, or even more mortifying- that you tell her.


End file.
